


Love & Hate

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:18:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one-shot for Valentine's Day. Inspired by/based on The Avett Brothers' "The Ballad of Love & Hate."</p><p>*moving over from ff.net for safe keeping</p><p>First published  February 14, 2012</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love & Hate

Warnings: Angst, post-EW, canon.

Author's Note: A real Valentine's gift for everyone who wanted something… a little less torturous for Duo. A _little_ less torturous, mind you.

A/N #2: I'm not going to call this a songfic, but it is, I guess. This is pretty much a narrative version of the Avett Brothers' "The Ballad of Love and Hate." I've included the lyrics at the end, but I highly recommend that you go and watch the video on Youtube. It's a lovely song. And, you know, as a reciprocal Valentine – if anyone wants to do their _own_ version – with any pairing – I'd love to read it.

**The Ballad of Love and Hate**

It was five a.m. when the vidphone screen turned to blue and started to play the tone that signaled an incoming call. The ringtone was the most annoying sound to ever have been invented – some strange mechanical cacophony that Trowa was positive had been developed as a form of torture, likely by Romafeller back during the war. The only reason that it was set as the call tone was because Trowa found that he was incapable of ignoring it – all of the other call tones he could ignore and let fade to background noise. But not this one. This call tone, without fail, forced Trowa to abandon whatever he was doing and answer.

Of course, at five he was _sleeping_ and abandoning that wasn't something he felt very motivated to do. Not considering the fact that in the past three weeks he had slept barely three hours a night, and several nights in a row had had to forego sleep altogether.

It was seven minutes after five when Trowa realized that whoever was calling him was persistent enough or cruel enough to torture him with the call tone until he got up to answer it.

In a burst of furious energy, Trowa kicked off the blankets on the bed and stalked out of the bedroom and into the living room to answer the call, not bothering to pull on clothes.

Only two people could be calling him this early. If it was Une, calling with an emergency, she certainly wouldn't expect him to be in full parade dress at this hour; and if it was –

Trowa ran his hand in front of the motion sensor to answer the call, and Duo's face filled the screen.

-and if it was Duo, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen Trowa naked before.

"Morning!" Duo said brightly, his face nearly split by his wide grin. He winked at Trowa when he noticed his state of undress. "You're looking good."

Trowa didn't bother to respond to the greeting. He was too busy taking in just how happy Duo seemed.

"Sorry I haven't called before," Duo said, and the grin wavered slightly.

Trowa arched an eyebrow at that but then forced his face to go blank. He shrugged.

"You've only been gone a few days."

The grin made a rapid retreat and became a grimace.

"Ah, twenty-three days," Duo pointed out.

Trowa shrugged again and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It hasn't seemed that long. I guess I didn't really notice you were gone."

Duo nodded slowly and some of the vibrancy in his indigo eyes seemed to fade.

During the wars, Duo's poker face had been almost as good as Trowa's – while Trowa usually hid all of his emotions and thoughts behind a blank façade, Duo went the route of projecting joy and confidence – often when he felt the exact opposite of those emotions. But that had been four years ago, Duo didn't need to hide behind a joker's mask anymore, and he had clearly lost the ability to disguise his pain.

"Yeah, well, I'm coming back on the next shuttle flight –"

"You can stay longer if you want," Trowa interrupted, proud that he managed to keep his voice neutral.

"-and I'll get in probably around midnight or one in the morning," Duo continued, as if Trowa hadn't spoken.

"Fine."

"It'll be late. I can just get a cab or –"

Trowa shrugged, not willing to commit either way.

Duo sighed.

"Right. Well, I've had a great time here with Hilde. We –"

"I have to go to work, Duo," Trowa stopped him. He did not want to – could not – listen to Duo wax poetic about the joys of salvaging scrap with Hilde on L2.

"Yeah, of course you do," Duo agreed and smiled tightly. "I'll see you tonight. Or tomorrow morning, I guess."

Duo looked like he was about to say something else, but then he shook his head and reached forward to end the call.

The vidphone screen went black, but Trowa stared at it for another moment, the image of Duo still in his mind.

Twenty-three days, and the first call that Trowa got from him was to ask for a ride.

Twenty-three days, and two minutes of staring at Duo's face made Trowa feel like a man dying of thirst.

Twenty-three days, and Trowa still didn't think he would be able to tell Duo that he loved him.

-0-

Working as a field agent for the Preventers had certain perks.

When Une had first set up the field office in San Francisco after the Eve War and Dekim Barton's attempted coup, she had fought a lot of resistance from the Old World aristocracy who favored the Brussels office as the center of Preventers affairs due to its proximity to the Hague and the ESUN government. Une, however, had insisted that San Francisco had a larger and better equipped space port, not to mention proximity to former East Asia, still a hotbed of insurrection even now.

While the higher-ups had disapproved of the choice, most of the Preventers staff had been supportive – Brussels was cold and dull; San Francisco was a vibrant city with a temperate climate and beaches. And since the Preventers shelled out to pay for seventy-five percent of all field agents housing, it was a sweet deal.

One that Trowa had taken advantage of when Une came knocking on his door, nearly begging – well, as close as Une ever came to begging, which meant that she said 'please' once after threatening to bring him up on war crimes charges – for him to join the Preventers seven months after the Mariemaia incident. She had already managed to snare Wufei and Heero, and she figured that Trowa would fill out her dream trio of child terrorists nicely.

Unlike the rest of the general population, state law enforcement included, Trowa could – and did – legally carry a sidearm. He would have done so regardless of legalities – he knew that Duo and even Quatre did as well – but it was still comforting to know that he had a right to the weapon.

The job also came with a car, one of those new hybrid electric and solar cars that Duo always made fun of, saying that a decent gust of wind would destroy it, but in a city as sprawling as San Francisco the transportation was necessary, and Trowa was grateful that he didn't have to shell out his own money for it.

Perhaps the thing that Trowa appreciated most about his job was the fact that he, Heero, and Wufei were more or less ignored by the rest of the Preventers staff. They weren't the only field agents – and they weren't even technically the most experienced, since no one ever referenced their careers as Gundam pilots and each of their fake IDs had been given bland backgrounds suggesting that, like anyone else their age, they had sat out the war in favor of attending high school.

But Une was far from stupid, and she knew the three of them well enough that 'plays well with others' would never feature very high on an evaluation report, and as a result they each reported directly to her. They worked with the intelligence department, of course, and occasionally even each other, but the missions they took they designed themselves and carried out almost always without backup or partners.

So when Trowa barged into Wufei's office at seven that morning and demanded that he let him go on the arms-deal sting operation in Las Vegas the other man had been planning for three months, he wasn't surprised that Wufei had to ask him to repeat the request.

"I need to do something," Trowa growled at him, hoping that Wufei would understand – or at least not care – and not question his motives.

Wufei arched an eyebrow at him and spent a long, silent moment staring at him.

They had all changed since the war, filling out and growing up, but perhaps the one thing that hadn't changed about any of the five former Gundam pilots was their innate distrust for the rest of humanity and the consequential need to never walk into a situation blindly. Even Quatre, living the relaxed life of a rich philanthropist, still had a well developed sense paranoia.

"Is this about Duo?"

Trowa clenched his jaw against the irritation and, surprisingly, swift shot of pain that the name evoked.

"Why would it be?" Trowa eventually responded.

Wufei's dark gaze held his own.

"How long has he been gone?"

Trowa shrugged.

"He's visiting Hilde."

"Hm."

If Wufei thought he could provoke Trowa into talking just by staring at him, then the other man had clearly forgotten that Trowa's very survival often depended on his ability to win staring contests without flinching.

Eventually Wufei gave up and sighed.

"My flight leaves in less than an hour –"

"I'm packed," Trowa assured him. He always kept a duffel in his office filled with necessities: guns, ammo, money, a few changes of clothes, and several sets of false identities for himself and Duo.

"Of course you are," Wufei muttered and shook his head. "Do you need to go over the intel?"

Trowa shrugged. He had tracked down all of the intel on the operation that morning, after the call from Duo, when he realized that he would go insane without something to keep him occupied.

"I can read it on the plane."

Wufei rolled his eyes.

"You've already read it, haven't you?"

Trowa allowed himself a small smirk at Wufei's irritation.

"Am I the only one who thinks that your ability to hack into the Preventers mainframe at will is a liability?"

"Heero can do it to," Trowa pointed out mildly. Duo could as well, but there was no need to get Wufei's blood pressure that high this early in the day.

"He designed the system," Wufei snapped.

Trowa nodded in agreement. Heero had been the one that Une approached for the coding and firewall protection, and Heero had then asked Trowa to assist him with it. Trowa suspected that it had less to do with Heero needing the help and more to do with Heero ensuring that someone else besides him could break into the system. It went back to that well developed paranoia: if revolution came again and Heero died, then someone else would have access to records and intel that could ensure a victory.

Wufei sighed and stood.

"We should head for the airfield."

Trowa nodded in agreement.

Wufei grabbed a backpack from under his desk and arched an eyebrow at Trowa, who merely stepped back into the hall and hefted the duffel bag that he had dropped there before entering Wufei's office.

"A little overconfident, weren't you?" Wufei asked, amusement and irritation warring in his eyes.

"No. I knew you would say yes and I didn't feel like wasting time."

Wufei rolled his eyes but refrained from comment.

They were en route on a commercial plane before Wufei brought up the subject of Duo again.

"I talked to him last week," Wufei said idly, even though Trowa knew the comment was anything but thoughtless.

The fact that Duo had spoken to Wufei and not _him_ seemed to only enforce the conclusions that Trowa had drawn about his relationship with the braided man two months ago.

They had been together for nearly two years, and in that time they had broken up three times, moved in together, moved back out, and then moved in again. Passionate, was how Quatre had jokingly described their relationship the one time that Trowa had broken down and confided in the blonde man. _Passionate_ it was, he had to agree, but Trowa's use of the word had more to do with his and Duo's use of the bed – and most of the furniture and flooring, and occasionally the walls – than their emotional attachment.

Neither of them had had what anyone could describe as a 'normal' childhood and only a very ambiguous take on it could gloss over the fact that both of them had experienced more violence, sex, drugs, and death in their lives by the age of seventeen than most _normal_ people could expect to see over several lifetimes of watching violent movies. They were screwed up, scarred, and broken.

It was no wonder that as much as they fit together they fought against it. Or at least Trowa did. Duo seemed hell bent on making a 'happily ever after' out of their lives, even though he knew as well as Trowa did that people like them _never_ got 'happily ever after.'

Trowa knew that as good as things could be with Duo – and the sad truth was that even when things were bad with Duo they were still brighter and better than they could ever be without him – that they were just fooling themselves into thinking they could be happy.

It had come to a head two months ago, when, after a night of more than usually amazing sex, Duo had whispered "I love you" before falling asleep.

Both men suffered from post traumatic stress disorder, as the Preventers staff shrinks insisted on calling it, and both had learned that there were times when you listened to the other cry in their sleep and remained silent and times that you woke them up and insisted on discussing it – if it was Duo doing the waking up – or washing away the darkness and the nightmares with the warmth and comfort of another living human – if it was Trowa doing the waking up.

But saying "I love you" didn't fall into the usual symptoms they dealt with, and Trowa had no idea how to respond to the words, or even if he should. _Love_ wasn't an emotion that Trowa felt in any way qualified to discuss or even think about. Hate, fear, despair, pain, rage – those were emotions he was well versed in, and he knew that they were the guiding forces of both his and Duo's lives.

Trowa had no problem identifying each of those emotions. He knew how his body would react to a situation shaped by them, and he knew well the acid burn of bile in his throat that most of them motivated.

Joy, contentment, and lust had been more recent additions to his emotional vocabulary, and ones that he still struggled with. Quatre had been the first to teach him joy, and Cathy had given him the ability to feel content with life and himself. Duo had been the one to inspire lust in Trowa. He had had sex before Duo, but even though a handful of the encounters had been voluntary, Duo was the first person he had ever kissed and felt desire for. Sex with Duo wasn't a physical act of release – although sometimes it provided that – and it wasn't part of a complex power struggle to ensure Trowa's survival. Sex with Duo was like laying outside on a warm summer day and letting the sun fill him with warmth. Sex with Duo had none of the darkness and pain of the past.

Living with Duo, watching him laugh and eventually learning to laugh with him, had given Trowa more than ample opportunity to experience those three positive emotions, and certainly a tough armor to battle against the negative emotions that he was more well versed in.

But love… Love was for people like Relena or Quatre; for people who had something to _give_. Trowa knew that he wasn't one of those people. He had nothing to give Duo – nothing but hate, fear, despair, pain, and rage. Duo already had those, and Trowa certainly had no interest in giving him more of the same.

For weeks, he had been convinced that Duo hadn't even realized he had said them. But he had, and twenty-four days ago he had said it again, over breakfast, with both of them fully awake.

Trowa hadn't been able to say it back, and Duo had left the next morning for a 'vacation' with Hilde on L2.

"Oh?" Trowa eventually responded to Wufei's information when he realized that the other man was intent on staring at him until he got a reaction.

Wufei rolled his eyes, and it made Trowa wonder just how much of his time the other man spent being annoyed at the rest of humanity. He doubted it was very healthy for him.

"He misses you," Wufei added.

Trowa had to fight the sneer that threatened to break through his indifferent façade. If Duo missed him then Duo should have called him sooner.

Wufei sighed.

"One of these days you're going to realize how much he means to you and I'm convinced it's going to be too late for you to –"

"I _realize_ how much he means to me," Trowa finally snapped, irritated that Wufei felt the need to play matchmaker. "And it was too late for me –" Trowa stopped himself and drew in a deep breath. This wasn't anything that Wufei needed to know, and it certainly wasn't anything Trowa wanted to tell him. But Wufei was right, it _was_ too late. It had been too late since the day that Trowa learned the one emotion he absolutely could not trust and should never feel was hope. That day had come not long after the first time Trowa piloted a mobile suit, one of his earliest and darkest memories. One that only Duo knew.

Hope was a lie, and all it could ever do was hurt Trowa. Yet he felt it – every time he looked at Duo, every time he heard his voice or felt the firm heat of his skin – and it tortured him.

"This has happened before," Wufei said softly. "After you two first moved in together, you fought and he moved out. But he moved back in."

Trowa snorted.

"We fought because he was working as a shuttle pilot and we only saw each other three times a month. He moved back after he got a job as a mechanic at the airfield."

"I've always been impressed by the way you can take the most emotionally charged incident and render it into a completely neutral and meaningless briefing."

Trowa glared at Wufei.

"You fought because you only saw each other three times a month and Duo was terrified that he _needed_ to see you more than that. He was convinced that at any moment you were going to leave him or die and he would be alone and that his desire for you crippled him. He moved back in when he realized that being with you wasn't a handicap, but that you made him stronger and that when you were together everything was better."

It baffled Trowa that Duo and Wufei had become friends after the wars – during them, the two had been at each other's throats nearly any time they worked together, and they came from such opposite backgrounds that Trowa doubted they had anything in common. But somehow they did, and they _talked_ about things – often enough that Trowa had had to dodge an irate Wufei at work on more than one occasion if he felt that he wasn't treating Duo as well as he should.

"We aren't fighting now," Trowa told him, amazed at just how tired he sounded.

"Then why has he been on L2 for nearly a month?"

Which meant that last week hadn't been the first time that Duo had spoken with Wufei.

Trowa decided that there was no productive outcome to this conversation. There was another thirty minutes until the plane landed, and jet engines had always had a soothing effect on him. He turned away from Wufei and leaned back against the plush headrest of his seat and allowed himself to fall asleep, lulled by the roar.

-0-

Duo checked his watch again. The last time he had checked it – two minutes ago – it had been one thirty. Now it was one thirty two. Which wasn't exactly surprising, since time had a way of moving forward. But it was irritating. Almost as irritating as the fact that Duo found himself checking it again not two minutes later.

By two, Duo forced himself to accept the fact that Trowa wasn't going to show.

He had called their home four times, and Trowa's cell another four. The call had gone straight to voicemail every time, and Duo refused to call again. Five unanswered calls was, to be honest, four too many.

Looking at the long stretch of yellow cabs arrayed in the pick-up lane, waiting to take home pathetic, lonely travelers like Duo, was just too depressing to consider.

Besides, if Duo was about to walk into the devastating implosion of his and Trowa's relationship, he wouldn't mind a bit of friendly company before it happened.

Wufei's phone was also off, so Duo found himself dialing Heero's number.

"Duo?" Heero's voice was gravelly from sleep, but there was still an unmistakable note of affection in it and that made Duo wince.

"Hey, buddy," Duo said and forced himself to sound cheerful. "Whatcha doing?"

"Sleeping," Heero muttered. "Well, I _was_."

Duo chuckled.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, I just got back in town and –"

"Back?"

"I went to L2 to visit Hilde for a few weeks," Duo rushed through, feeling like a complete ass when he realized that he hadn't even told Heero he was heading to space. "Anyway, I'm at the airport and I was wondering if you might feel like giving me a ride?"

"I'm on my way. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Heero said immediately and then hung up.

Duo felt equal parts amused and guilty. He could actually visualize Heero hanging up the phone, rolling out of bed, and pulling on a pair of pants in one smooth motion.

He should have just taken a cab when Wufei didn't answer. He should just stick to his policy of avoidance with Heero. It wasn't fair to the former pilot of Wing that Duo felt nothing but friendship for him. Heero had made it clear, on many occasions, that he wanted Duo to be more than a friend.

Heero also made no effort to hide his disapproval for Duo's relationship with Trowa, and when he pulled up to the curb at the airport his eyebrows were drawn together in a scowl. Duo could already hear the lecture that Heero would no doubt give him over this.

"Where's Trowa?" Heero asked when Duo was settled in the passenger seat and they merged into traffic.

"Dunno," Duo sighed, wishing he had a different answer to give.

Heero's scowl became more pronounced.

"He doesn't treat you –"

"Heero, he treats me just fine."

Which was more or less true. Trowa _did_ treat Duo fine. Better than fine, really. With Trowa, Duo had found someone who he could trust and respect and who could look at him – knowing his deepest and darkest secrets – and still find him desirable.

Things were fine between them, and Duo had no doubt that things could go on being fine. But Duo was a street rat, and he had grown up with hunger in his belly and he wanted _more_. His relationship with Trowa was so very close to being beyond Duo's wildest dreams that he had to push for it.

He was convinced that pushing for it had finally pushed Trowa away. Duo knew that Trowa's demons were as powerful and corrosive as his own, if in different ways, but he had thought that together things were better –that together things could be more than fine.

"Then why did you call me at two in the morning to get you?"

Duo turned to look at Heero and took in the tense set of his shoulders.

"Heero –"

"Duo, I just don't understand why you want to be with _him_."

"You two used to be friends," Duo pointed out, "so you can't think he's _that_ bad."

A muscle in Heero's jaw jumped.

"We were friends before the two of you became involved," Heero agreed.

Another thing Duo felt guilty about – not only did he not return Heero's affection, but he had taken away his one real friend.

He had talked to Wufei about that, once, and the other pilot had wisely pointed out that Duo couldn't control his own heart anymore than Heero could, and that neither issue was his fault. But Duo knew that Heero missed having Trowa as a friend, just as much as Trowa missed having Heero as a friend.

There were so many ways that Duo and Trowa were well suited, and so many things that made them different from the other three Gundam pilots – but Trowa had almost as much in common with Heero as he did with Duo, and their personalities aligned much easier than Duo's and Trowa's.

Duo had been jealous, back during the war, at the effortless way those two could exist in each other's presence without any words spoken and still carry on a conversation or plan an attack – they even seemed to have silent inside jokes with each other.

Now all they had were sharp glares and a handful of awkward dinners at Quatre's house whenever their former comrade was in town.

"And I'm sorry that I ruined that. I –"

"You didn't ruin anything. _He_ knew how I feel about –"

"Heero, seriously, this is not his fault. I'm the one who wouldn't take no for an answer. I'm the one who practically stalked him for three months before he would go out with me. None of this is his _fault_. I love him, okay?"

Those last words had a visible effect on Heero, and he seemed to sink into the driver's seat.

"You love him."

"Yeah, I do."

Heero – more than anyone but Trowa – knew just how much Duo had to mean those words to say them. He had only ever told two people he loved them – Solo and Sister Helen – and their deaths had more or less resolved him to a life without that sort of devotion or emotional attachment.

Until Trowa. Duo had fought it – for two years he had tried to keep their relationship from progressing to this point. But he had known, that first time they kissed and Trowa pulled away with a smile, that he was a goner.

"And does he -?"

Duo shrugged. He couldn't make assumptions about Trowa's feelings for him – not with so much at stake here – and he didn't want to get Heero's hopes up in any case.

When Heero pulled into the driveway of Trowa's condo he turned off the ignition and turned to face Duo.

"What happens when he can't tell you that he feels the same way?"

The fact that Heero said it as not a possibility but a fact only confirmed Duo's fears that everyone else – Hilde and Wufei included – could see that this was going nowhere. Duo felt like he was just sitting in Deathscythe's cockpit, thumbing the self-destruct button, unable to believe that the power was offline and the wiring was faulty. He just couldn't give up on this, though.

"I don't know," Duo allowed, "but I'm… not a coward."

Heero snorted.

"Running away from a defeat isn't cowardice, it's good tactics."

Duo smiled bitterly.

"We're not in the war anymore, Heero buddy. I'm trying to move past that, yanno?"

Heero held his gaze for a long moment.

"I'm here. For you."

Duo nodded.

"I wish you wouldn't be," he said before grabbing his bag from the back seat and getting out of the car.

He watched as Heero drove off before he let himself in.

Trowa's car was gone, and the lights were off in the condo.

Duo felt like he was trespassing, which was ridiculous considering the fact that nearly all of the furniture was his, and that he had lived here with Trowa for the last year – and a few months before that, separated by one of their breakups.

He put his bag in the bedroom, not bothering to unpack. He wasn't sure where Trowa was or when he would come back, but he wanted this resolved, and he wanted to be prepared for the eventuality that Trowa wouldn't say those words to him.

Duo poured himself a glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table to wait.

-0-

It was after four when Trowa made it home.

The sting operation had gone well – seven bad guys arrested, three dead, and several million dollars worth of illegal arms confiscated. Trowa had been grazed by a bullet in the decisive shoot out, catching it across his side when he moved too slowly.

Wufei had given him hell about it, because now he had to fill out extra paperwork. It was barely a scratch, however, and after Trowa raiding the infirmary's supplies under the baleful glare of the shift doctor, he was fine.

The sharp pain in his side was nothing compared to the ache of emptiness and despair he felt when he pulled into the driveway and saw that the lights were off in the condo.

He knew it could mean anything – Duo might be asleep, his flight might have been delayed, the power could be out – but he was also certain that it could mean only one thing. Duo was gone.

Hope had, once again, visited Trowa with the mind numbing pain that only shattered dreams could cause.

Slowly, hating every step he had to take, Trowa walked up the front stoop and let himself into the house.

He locked the door behind him and leaned heavily against it, breathing deeply and fooling himself into thinking he could catch the faint whiff of Duo's aftershave.

Trowa walked into the kitchen, thinking that a glass of vodka – maybe even the whole bottle – was called for in this situation.

He came up short however, when he saw the dim outline of a person sitting at the kitchen table, illuminated only by the dim light of a digital reader.

"Duo?" Trowa turned on the kitchen light, blinking in the harsh glare.

Either his mind had taken pity on him and created a frighteningly realistic hallucination of Duo – not even looking his best, but clearly tired with large, dark bruises under his eyes and his clothing wrinkled – or Duo was, in actuality, sitting in front of him.

"Hey," Duo said, smiling faintly for a moment before he seemed to lose steam and his face settled back into a neutral, guarded expression.

"I'm sorry," Trowa said the words without conscious thought or effort.

They startled both of them, and Duo leaned back in his seat and looked as though he was trying to measure their veracity.

"I'm sorry," Trowa said again, apologizing for everything, and for nothing.

Duo smiled crookedly. It was his smuggler's grin – that cocky, assured smirk that said he _knew_ he had gotten his way and had managed to get the better end of the deal without you even realizing it.

"What for?" Duo said and stood up from the table. He closed the space between them, stopping just a few inches away, close enough that Trowa could smell him – that faint aftershave and the less pleasant, bodily smell of a day spent traveling.

Duo shrugged.

"I'm yours, and that's it."

Trowa felt that same damn emotion, that traitor hope, start to grow again.

"And you're mine," Duo added, closing the space between them and lacing his fingers together behind Trowa's neck. "Forever."

When they kissed, it felt like the first time they had kissed – and like every time their lips had ever touched – it was warm and electric and felt bizarrely like home and danger all wrapped together.

Duo pulled away and Trowa leaned down, resting his forehead against the shorter man's.

"Forever," Trowa agreed.

Duo smiled at him and kissed him again.

Later, after they showered together and rechristened the bed, Trowa stayed awake and watched Duo sleep.

He face was at peace – even now a rare enough occurance for either of them that Trowa almost envied him – and his body was curled inward, towards Trowa.

Trowa reached out and brushed Duo's hair back from his face.

Looking at him like this, Trowa finally realized that that damn feeling – hope – wasn't at all what he had thought it was.

Because when he looked at Duo, he didn't feel the knife's edge of want and doom that hope always gave him.

He felt love.

-0-

Lyrics:

Love writes a letter and sends it to hate.  
My vacations ending. I'm coming home late.  
The weather was fine and the ocean was great  
and I can't wait to see you again.

Hate reads the letter and throws it away.  
"No one here cares if you go or you stay.  
I barely even noticed that you were away.  
I'll see you or I won't, whatever."

Love sings a song as she sails through the sky.  
The water looks bluer through her pretty eyes.  
And everyone knows it whenever she flies,  
and also when she comes down.

Hate keeps his head up and walks through the street.  
Every stranger and drifter he greets.  
And shakes hands with every loner he meets  
with a serious look on his face.

Love arrives safely with suitcase in tow.  
Carrying with her the good things we know.  
A reason to live and a reason to grow.  
To trust. To hope. To care.

Hate sits alone on the hood of his car.  
Without much regard to the moon or the stars.  
Lazily killing the last of a jar  
of the strongest stuff you can drink.

Love takes a taxi, a young man drives.  
As soon as he sees her, hope fills his eyes.  
But tears follow after, at the end of the ride,  
cause he might never see her again.

Hate gets home lucky to still be alive.  
He screams o'er the sidewalk and into the drive.  
The clock in the kitchen says 2:55,  
And the clock in the kitchen is slow.

Love has been waiting, patient and kind.  
Just wanting a phone call or some kind of sign,  
That the one that she cares for, who's out of his mind,  
Will make it back safe to her arms.

Hate stumbles forward and leans in the door.  
Weary head hung, eyes to the floor.  
He says "Love, I'm sorry", and she says, "What for?  
I'm your and that's it, Whatever.  
I should not have been gone for so long.  
I'm your's and that's it, forever."

You're mine and that's it, forever.


End file.
